


our dust allows

by introductory



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Early Work, M/M, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-10
Updated: 2006-12-10
Packaged: 2019-10-17 11:45:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17559764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/introductory/pseuds/introductory
Summary: On Sateda when your wife dies, you mourn for a month and a day.





	our dust allows

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 10 December 2006.

_On Sateda when your wife dies, you mourn for a month and a day. You are not alone: the town mourns with you, gives you space, brings bread to the square of dirt you sleep on. For a month and a day you touch your fingers to the stone that marks your wife's grave, pricking a drop of blood for every morning you wake up alone. You freeze with the nights, burn in the days, trace the twilight with eyes that have lingered too long._

_And after a month and a day, you finally carve your names into the dry surface of the stone. You are allowed to shed your clothes of mourning and cut your hair; you start anew, smiling under the bright Satedan sun._

\--

 

It's movie night. Ronon shows up because he knows that otherwise Sheppard will go looking for him; it'll just cause problems, and Ronon isn't in the mood to deal. The Marines have relinquished control to the Air Force, and the modified Ancient theatre is showing Lorne's choice when Ronon slips in the back, ducking as low as he can. He takes a seat next to Weir and tries to act like he's enjoying it, for his sake as well as that of the crew. Some of the jokes go over his head, and he can't understand the mythology behind the film. Did all Earthlings (as he's often heard them refer to themselves) revel in such bizarre stories about werewolves and vampires and scantily-clad flying women?

But soon enough Ronon's caught up in the movie, or at least as much as he's willing to be (he'll never live down what happened during _Bride and Prejudice_ ). The plot is silly and inane, but the characters themselves are intriguing. The stoic hero, the queer-talking little monk; the heroine, gorgeous and confident and kind. Ronon hasn't seen anyone like her in a long time, and he hasn't expected to.

An hour and a half later, she dies.

Ronon's ribs hurt. It was so dreadfully unfair -- that she should try so hard -- that she should succeed -- that she should sacrifice herself in the end. Even as scientists and airmen file out of the theatre, swapping favorite lines and laughing at the absurdity of the villain, Ronon remains in his seat, and only leaves when everyone else is gone.

The old wound isn't quite open all the way, but it aches just a little more than usual. Ronon wakes up the next morning in a strange girl's bed, sees her pale arms and dark hair and dresses without making a sound.

 

\--

 

Eleni Achilleos has soft brown eyes, a soft voice, soft hands. She pulls him into her bed after a chance encounter in the mess, overriding his half-hearted protests with kisses and soft lips.

Afterwards, she starts to talk: she's an archaeologist from Greece; she studies what remains of the Ancient culture in Atlantis, trying to piece together the history of the city; she left her dog and her brother George behind on Earth. All Ronon feels is guilt for this girl -- because that's all she is -- lying with her toes touching his calves. Even while he nods and listens he doesn't look at her, doesn't want to see the fragile creature he's tainted with his lust.

"Oh, but I'll get to see you again, right?" she asks. That soft, soft voice: Ronon kisses her on the forehead and says no.

 

\--

 

When Samantha Carter schlepps aboard the _Daedalus_ for three weeks, Ronon's nervous, to say the least. The last time Samantha visited Atlantis she ended up in his quarters twice, the first after a long fight with McKay about the Intergalactic Bridge and the second time after a particularly boring meeting in the middle of the day. Ronon's not quite sure what to make of her anymore: she tinkers around with the hyperdrive, stealing coffee from unsuspecting physicists and laughing that bright, arrogant laugh of hers.

Ronon's inclined to dislike her this time around. He avoids her; he's careful to take his meals with McKay instead of Sheppard, because Samantha's grown onto that man like a leech, and doesn't give McKay a second -- or even first -- glance. He can almost identify with the pudgy scientist: McKay's generally bitter expression grows worse with every one of Samantha's careless smiles.

But the days pass, and the more time Ronon spends on this prison of a ship the more he feels like going out there and killing something, just to prove a point. He spars with Sheppard occasionally, intimidates Hermiod, even scuffles with the junior crewmen to burn off the extra adrenaline, but it's all for naught when Samantha shows up outside his door on the eleventh night. "Hey," she says, as if it's explanation enough. "You busy?" 

The next day he tries not to look at the bite marks on her neck, the bruises on her arms where he held her down; because in his bed she reminded him of -- _her_ \-- fierce and proud and strong, and he couldn't help himself. Elizabeth once told him something about lovers and fighters, but he doesn't try hard enough to remember. Still, there was a desperation in her last kiss, and when the long hours stretch into days without a single glance in his direction, Ronon goes to see her.

He bumps into McKay outside Sheppard's quarters; McKay's carrying an Ancient tablet and a steaming mug of coffee. "Where are you going?"

"Around," Ronon replies. "You?"

McKay tucks the tablet under his arm to scratch at the outside of his thigh. "I'm trying to find Dr Carter so I can go over these calculations with her, but she's not in her quarters" -- head cocked, brow furrowed -- "have you seen her?"

Ronon shakes his head, remembering her kiss, the blood on her bitten lip. He can hear her behind Sheppard's closed door but he shakes his head again. "No," he says. "Keep looking."

 

\--

 

Ronon sleeps with Miko Kusanagi completely by accident. They were two of the many, many caffeine-starved people in the city who'd fallen under the influence of the strange java-like substance that Lorne's team had brought back from P4X-926. Ronon woke up in the control room surrounded by couples in various states of undress, and he'd been taken aback to see a small figure at his side, arms wrapped around him in the tightest of embraces.

Everyone's still embarrassed some five hours later: a few of the marines had the unfortunate luck to regain consciousness at the bottoms of Zelenka's massive stills, and a few had the even worse luck of being coupled with someone they despised. Kavanagh and Cadman look fit to exchange blows whenever they cross paths -- not that Cadman wouldn't win, anyway. Between the airmen there's frantic discussion regarding a non-fraternization rule and the consequences of accidentally sleeping with a teammate; from what Ronon can gather, Weir's looking the other way, but these thoughts still plague the hapless soldiers. "They've all gone crazy," Ronon tells Sheppard, who's lounging against the railing, eating an impossibly bright green apple. Sheppard just laughs and shakes his head.

Still Ronon shows up at Miko's quarters to apologize because -- well, she hadn't said no, but she certainly hadn't said _yes_ \-- and he's being gnawed up from the inside out. When Miko opens the door, she's wearing a nightgown and pink slippers, and her face blushes to match. 

There's a hint of fear in her eyes, a wariness; but there too is a warmth that makes him take a step. "I'm sorry for -- you know," Ronon says, handing her the flowers and looking away. He's surprised to feel her light touch on his arm, gentle as snowfall on the east pier, and her high clear voice saying, "There is nothing to forgive."

 

\--

 

When Kate Heightmeyer knocks on his door around dawn, Ronon almost doesn't let her in. He's missed the last four psych evaluations; he went there once, and it was enough. He's explained it to Teyla -- _if you need to justify yourself to a stranger, then you aren't living the way you should_ ; she agreed, but Weir saw it differently, and ordered weekly psych evaluations for all off-world teams. Needless to say, Ronon's not happy to see her. 

"Hello, Ronon," she says, making her way through his room. She takes a seat on his chair; the hems of her pajamas drape across the floor. Ronon gives her an indifferent look, and she responds with a smile. "Colonel Sheppard tells me you haven't been sleeping lately -- want to tell me about it?"

Ronon just grunts in reply. It would be so easy for him to pick her up and carry her back to her office, so easy for him to ignore her question. But the last month has filled his dreams with old memories he thought would stay buried, and Heightmeyer's eyes don't judge.

"I," he begins, then: "She's gone." Ronon tries to shut his mouth but suddenly he's speaking, forcing out the words -- his shame, his guilt -- like a poison. "She wouldn't come with me, she wouldn't go. I couldn't save her." 

Heightmeyer's delicate eyebrows draw together. "Does this have to do with Carter and Kusanagi?" she asks. Ronon nods; he doesn't know how she knows, but he won't ask. There's a second in which they sit stock-still; and then Heightmeyer moves. She sits beside him on the bed, tugs his shoulders and pulls him down, down, with her. "Ronon," she whispers, "you don't always have to run." 

Ronon buries his face into her throat, lets her hold him like Melena did. Heightmeyer's slim arms wrap around him, and in her heartbeat Ronon can hear the inner workings of Atlantis, the scientists bustling, the airmen standing guard; and somewhere the sun is rising, beating a slow and steady pulse.


End file.
